Sparked by Words

As we approach the holiday season, please remember the thousands who have lost members of their families, their homes and possessions, their entire communities, to fires still raging in California.

Say a prayer in the language of your heart, write a check to assist the many who have lost everything, and express gratitude to the exhausted first responders still on the frontlines trying to quell the flames and assist those who have been stricken.

To be truly thankful is not only to account for your own blessings but to realize that so many are injured, harrowed, and grieving, and then to share your bounty.

If your celebration this year finds you dining at a table of cinders, sobbing at an open gravesite, bereft of all but the charity of strangers, please know I wish you a future.

Sharon, you have represented sadness and despair so well with Van Gogh’s drawing.
Set against the rich celebrations of many the contrasts are sharp.
I feel this specifically every winter when so many suffer hardship. Also in trauma like your
terrible fires in California or war torn countries around the world.

There is so much hardship in the world, as you say, Miriam. Those of us more fortunate should never take our ease for granted, and sharing some of our bounty is a good thing to do. Thank you for reading, Miriam.

Our blessed rain is clearing the air and tamping the fires. A blessing and a curse for those displaced living in tents. Someone from our church gathered linens and camp gear to take to the area, linens for all the poor homeless and injured pets, and camp gear for those who must camp to survive. My closet is emptier and my heart is a little happier. The outpouring of concern and help has been amazing. Most folks are thankful to be alive.

I agree, Irene. It’s so hard to start over when you have everything and simply must move things to a new house, but when you’ve lost every single thing – I can’t imagine how hard this must be. Many of the folks in Paradise were retired and elderly. Must be unbearably tough for everyone.

Thank you for this one, Sharon. It’s easy to forget, that just because the fires (and aftermath) are no longer in the headlines, it doesn’t mean the suffering is over. I can’t even imagine the horror of going through the fires and losing everything. Blessings to you for your kindness and caring. 💗

Many people care and many of us do a bit to help out. Friends who live closer are providing shelter; like thousands who live farther, I gave money. I wish I could do more. Thanks for your kindness, Betty. I believe that good thoughts also help.

Van Gogh was so tuned in to the deepest part of his soul and therefore touched the deepest parts of others. It’s why so many people respond to his art by placing their hands over their hearts, a likely unconscious act I witnessed over and over at a huge Van Gogh exhibit many years ago.

That´s a wonderful thing you´ve observed here, Shari, I´m going to put more attention to the other visitors next time I´m on a Van Gogh exhibit! usually I´m just transfixed by the art but that´s something I´d really like to see.

I missed this one, only seeing it now – great as always post, Sharon. I wonder if the wonderful drawing is of one of his wives crying about another of his infidelities? Also, when I mentioned something about holidays & I think suicide, a psychologist recently informed me that suicides happens most late spring/early summer. Theory is that holidays include activities, whereas the in-between periods are hardest – sad either way, but interesting, no?

Van Gogh never married though he was famously in love several times and engaged at least once. I think his own mental fragility allowed him to grasp deep, sad emotions. He really conveys sorrow in every line of this eloquent drawing. It’s powerful because there are so few strokes, just enough to convey this woman’s grief.

As for philandering husbands, you may be thinking of Picasso who loved his women to fight over him. He liked the tempestuous battles they waged in public. Another brilliant artist but a nasty piece of work in so many ways. I’d prefer to meet Van Gogh were I given the chance though I’d wouldn’t mind watching Picasso work.

Glad you found this post, Daal. I often blog binge, reading several recent posts from one writer rather than racing from blog to blog every day. Unfortunately, I also miss some posts because of this erratic following strategy.

You read my mind (despite what I wrote lol) on all counts. For some reason indeed I’d confused him with Mr. P. Also, I agree with you about both artists. As for blog reading, I always wish I had more hours in my days.

As writers we can provide stories worth reading but we can’t force people to read. As a writer who also reads, I try to read well – my paying it forward. You and I often share a similar take on the world – nice to have that partner.

I’m currently reading A God in Ruins by Kate Atkinson. It has me enthralled, but it’s very difficult to place the characters at first, so I’ve read the first 60 pages twice in order to get oriented. The book is 460 pages and I suspect 160,000 words, so it’s going to take me a while to complete. This book is a sequel to Life After Life, so I’ll probably read that one next. And then I might find a book of short stories to give myself a breather. Of course, I’m always reading poetry.

Sharon Lynne Bonin-Pratt began her writing career the way so many others have done: by first doing everything else. Winning entries in grade school art, story, and essay contests convinced her to become a writer, but the real world intruded in adulthood and demanded she pay bills, raise kids, be a contributing member of the community. Along that rutted path she worked in the commercial art field designing patterns for surfer shorts, bikinis, and Hawaiian style shirts, taught after-school art through a city recreation program, and structured an art curriculum for three private schools. Ten years ago the writing muse, struggling to breathe in letters to friends and art articles, found its way to the surface. In a two-week period Shari wrote 60 pages of her first historical novel, and didn’t stop for three years. By then a second book demanded paper – OK, computer space – and now the third is in final revision stage. Of course, final revision is two words with a long shadow and a little footprint. Some folk claim they will write when the floors get vacuumed, the family accounting completed, the new garden planted. Shari is proof that all those things can be successfully ignored but not the urge to write. Her fiction explores human relationships, revenge, rage, forgiveness, redemption, and all the labyrinthine quandaries that mess up otherwise perfect lives. She resides in Southern California with her husband who’s learned to vacuum but not to cook. And the garden needs help.